


The Space You Made For Me

by geckoholic



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Kissing, Multi, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:26:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Karen considers herself incredibly lucky. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Space You Made For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperclipbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/gifts).



> Sooooo my original idea didn't take off, which means, have a pornlet. I looked up your old dear author letters and hope the result pleases. :)
> 
> Beta-read by andibeth82. Thank you! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "Easier To Lie" by Aqualung.

Karen considers herself incredibly lucky. 

From the outside, that might look like a misconception. She was arrested for murder less than a year ago. She lost her home, her well-paid, high profile job. Now she's working in a small startup law firm that still doesn't have more than a handful steady clients, a fax machine that's broken three days out of five, and mismatched furniture. 

But see, it's hard to care about all that when she's laid out on one of said mismatched pieces of furniture, panties on the floor, her pencil skirt pushed up past her hip, effectively turning it inside out, her head resting against one of her bosses’ chest and the other one leaving finger-shaped bruises on her thighs while he eats her out with an eagerness she never encountered before. She already knows Matt will look at those bruises later – marks he left on her because he let go of some of his precious control – and feel bad about them. That she will reassure him, kiss the stricken look of his face, promise him that she wouldn't want it any other way. 

Sometimes she wonders how she could ever _not_ know. How she managed to be so blind, failed to make the connection when it was _so obvious_. She'd say Matt and Daredevil are like Jekyll and Hyde, but that's not quite accurate. There's no demon in him, no devil, no matter what he says. Matt cares too much, loves too much, does everything in spades. That's the place Daredevil sprang from. It's also the reason why _she_ loves _him_. And she's not the only one. 

Behind her, Foggy makes a noise low in his throat. She knows his eyes are closed. For all that he tends to be Matt's eyes, his guide, in every day life, when they're like this he's the one who operates mainly on hearing and touch. He buries his head in her hair, one arm around her middle, the other cupping her face from behind, thumbing the line of her jaw. It's a possessive move, and it'd be against her taste if it was anyone else, but with him... The only reason Foggy does this is because _she_ lets him. He wouldn't dare otherwise. Karen shifts her hips, presses herself closer to his body; cries out when Matt spreads her legs wider and scrapes his teeth against the core of her, just a little bit, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to get her attention, have her curse him out, whispered obscenities. 

Matt sits back and grins, smugly. He stares straight at her, seeing her without _seeing_ her, slowly licking his lips – she knows he doesn't need to be able to read her expression, has other ways to gauge whether his taunting got the reaction he wanted. 

She doesn't trust her voice, and so she just leans forward so she can grab at his dress shirt, push him back down; he's not the only one who can play rough. Foggy moves with her, and she can feel him lift his head. Matt smiles wider and nods, and ohh, now she's in trouble, now they're teaming up, joining forces to drive her straight out of her skin. 

They don't waste any time either. 

Matt gets one hand under her ass, lifting her up, brushes the other through her labia, thumb finding her clit with the precision that comes with experience; he knows her body like the back of his hand by now, her reactions, her pressure points. They both do, and they're not shy to use that fact against her. Matt flicks his thumb against her _just like that_ , not too fast, not too hard, not too shallow, and she's only just starting to lose herself in that sensation when Foggy slides one hand down her blouse and tweaks a nibble between two fingers. Her breath catches, and he uses his other hand, still on her neck, to make her turn her head his way, swallows the low moan that's building in her chest with a slow, messy kiss that only serves to make breathing _harder_. 

She hears Matt shift between her legs – the conference table isn't exactly spacious, nor comfortable, his knees and thighs must be burning with the strain at this point – and then his finger is gone, only to be replaced by his mouth again. He's teasing and licking and sucking, and she's barely aware of how Foggy bends forward to unbutton her blouse, push down her bra, cupping her breasts with both hands, the sensitive flesh pebbling with both the chilly air in the room and his attentions. He's mumbling something against her neck, but she can't quite make out the words; she thinks it's praise, telling her how beautiful she is, how glad he is that she's _theirs_ , that they found each other. Then he's kissing her again, at just the same moment that Matt slips two fingers into her, gently but firm, familiar enough with her body that he knows it won't be too much, she's ready, the push and the pressure simply _perfect_ as a counterpoint to his mouth on her. 

She's not the only one who's breathing hard, now; the soft puff of Foggy's breath against the skin on her neck has turned erratic and irregular, and it still mystifies her, how much he's getting out of this. Just feeling the tremors that run through her body, kissing, watching, and he's about to _lose_ it, closer to climax than she is, untouched erection pressing into the small of her back. His hands on her breasts have stilled; he's absentmindedly stroking his thumbs against her nipples whenever he remembers that's what he should be do doing, wants to be doing, but mainly he's just kissing her, open-mouthed. The muscles in her neck are starting to strain with the awkward angle, but she wouldn't dream of drawing away. They breathe in tandem, both of them winded, neither of them getting quite enough oxygen out of it, and her head is starting to swim. She feels her body moving without conscious command – meeting the small thrusts of Matt's fingers, bending back into Foggy, back and forth, held in midair like a magnet caught between two poles, belonging to both, perfectly balanced. 

Predictably, Foggy is the first to break, his body tensing against her, and now it's Karen who's guiding their kiss, doesn't let him get away, greedy for every stuttered breath. She only lets him draw away when he's spent, boneless, both arms curling around her, and she settles against him, eyes closed to fully concentrate on Matt and the sparks of pleasure shooting up her spine with every lick of his tongue, every small twist of his fingers inside her, a relentless rhythm. With her attention now undivided, it's easy to get lost in this, let it flood her, drown her, and that's exactly what her orgasm feels like when it hits, a slow current that washes through her body without her permission or control. She's dimly aware that Foggy's pressing his lips to her temple, mumbling something inane and soothing, and then she's done, collapses against his chest, lost and falling and relying on him to catch her. 

She blinks when she hears the rustle of denim and brief clank that means Matt's busy unbuttoning his jeans. He's gotten off the table, standing in front of her now, doesn't bother chucking his leg wear completely, just lowering it enough that he can get a hand on himself. Karen reaches between her legs, parting her labia, lazily playing with herself and letting him _see_ as he gets a hand around his dick, jacking it with quick, perfunctory movements of his wrist; not aiming for elegance or endurance, just a quick release, relieving the pressure that's been building up inside him. He sucks his lower lip between his teeth, eyes falling closed, and she watches him come apart, her gaze glued to his face in order to catch every minute twitch, every flutter of his eyelids. 

Karen doesn't care what anyone else might think about the turn her life has taken. She gets to have this. She gets to have _them_ , and none of the riches and the success in the world could ever compare.


End file.
